


That Fateful Night

by Aerilon452



Category: Addams Family (TV 1964), The Addams Family (Movies - Sonnenfeld)
Genre: A/U, F/M, First Meeting, Ghosts, Mediums, OMC - Freeform, Supernatural Elements, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-06
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:34:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 22,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27412807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aerilon452/pseuds/Aerilon452
Summary: The debutante ball was a fateful night for Gomez, and not because he drove his brother off. By shear happenstance -- and a little mystical maneuverings -- Morticia Frump enters his life. Their connection is immediate, but there's a problem. Gomez is supposed to be marrying Ophelia.
Relationships: Gomez Addams/Morticia Addams
Kudos: 22





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is merging the dark chemistry of the 90's movies Morticia and Gomez and the amazing grandeur of the 60's tv show. I updated a few things. Cellphones and other things, plus more witchy powers and a few ghosts. I really hope you enjoy this new iteration of ADDAMS FAMILY! Thank you!

Morticia couldn’t believe what she was doing. She was showing her face at a debutante ball where her sister, Ophelia, should have been. Unfortunately, her sister was having a bad day and couldn’t be allowed in public where someone might get hurt. So, that left Morticia to show up in her place. She was supposed to be meeting Gomez Addams, to tell him his intended fiancé was unavailable for the night. To her way of thinking, a note would have sufficed. Morticia didn’t see the point of being stitched into a skintight black dress just to meet a man who was supposed to marry her sister. She caught sight of herself in the reflection of the glass. Her skin was impossibly pale, her lips brightly red, and her eyes almost black. It was a sharp contrast to anyone else in the room.

Gomez had spent the better part of an hour wooing Flora and Fauna Amour – the gold-digging Siamese twins who had set their sights on Fester and the Addams fortune. He was distracting them from his brother in an attempt to keep Fester from making a grave mistake that could cost their family. Gomez happened to look up at the entrance and what he saw stole his breath away. Magnetism pulled him away from Fester and the twins, propelling him towards the mysteriously dark creature that had just entered the ball.

Morticia couldn’t help but stare at the man coming towards her. A strange feeling came over her the closer he got to her. She felt her heart flutter when he offered his hand to her. Some unseen force compelled her place her hand in his. It was as if a circuit connected. In an instant she knew that this man was her future. “I’m Morticia Frump,” she said softly. If she spoke any louder this burgeoning fantasy she found herself in might evaporate.

“Gomez Addams,” he responded, leaning down to kiss the back of her hand. The last name rang a distant bell in his head, but he ignored it in favor of giving her his complete focus. “Will you waltz with me?” Gomez asked, whisking her off to the dance floor. She followed him willingly, letting him lead as she swept her around the room. He focused on her completely. They were the only two in the room. They spent the whole night dancing, smiling, and falling for each other.

**THE NEXT DAY:**

Morticia stood by the window in her bedroom, staring out over the barren landscape of their home. The old Frump manor was run down and oddly homey to her in a gloomy sort of way. She was thinking about Gomez Addams and the way they danced together. No one had shown such command of her body, guiding her through the moves as if they had been dancing for years together. She could still feel his hands on her.

_You have a glow about you this morn, dear child._

Morticia sighed happily in agreement. She looked over at the ghost of her Aunt Celestina who had died by stoning back in 1704 for crimes of being a witch. “I met a man,” she replied softly, trying to hide her smile of joy. She was picturing his eyes, his smile, his moustache, and his laugh. He laughed like a devil without a care. It was scintillating and even now it made her shiver with delight.

_A man can be your greatest joy or your greatest downfall. You have a power no one has witnessed for a hundred years in this family. It must be guarded._

Morticia glanced at the ghost, nodding in understanding. Her heart, on the other hand, was telling her that Gomez would revel in everything that made her unique. Last night, though they hadn’t done a lot of talking, he had made his intentions pretty clear. He wanted to marry her.

Orion, twin brother to Ophelia, stood silently in the open doorway of his younger sisters’ bedroom. Morticia was a moon-eyed schoolgirl and had been that way all morning. He made the right choice by sending her in Ophelia’s place. When he had cast the cards yesterday morning, everything spoke to Morticia being the perfect match for Gomez. With their father away, it was up to Orion make sure everything was arranged. If he could get Morticia away from their sister, the better he would feel.

Orion waited a few more minutes before making his presence known. He took in her appearance for this morning. Morticia had chosen to wear simple black leggings, flats, and an oversized black knitted sweater that she had made herself. Her hair was parted down the middle and braided into pigtails. She looked younger than her eighteen years of age. Her head bobbed lightly up and down as if she were listening to music, but he knew better. His sister was talking with one of the Frump family ghosts that attached themselves to the old colony manor house.

Morticia returned her gaze to the window, seeing storm clouds brewing in the distance. Hopefully a storm would be upon them, blanketing the manor in the sounds of rain and thunder. It would make her day perfect. Then she saw her brother’s reflection. “How long have you been standing there?” she asked carefully, turning to face Orion, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Not long,” Orion replied in the same manner as she had. “We’re expecting guests in the next few minutes.” No sooner had he spoken, than the booming foghorn doorbell they had sounded throughout the entire manor. “Speak of the devil,” Orion chuckled. Then, he suggested, “You may want to change into the dress you were wearing last night.”

“Why?” Morticia asked, perplexed. They dress had been uncomfortable – well, for all of ten minutes and then she found she liked the way it hugged her body, leaving nothing to Gomez’s imagination.

“Gomez Addams, his brother, and mother are here to speak to mama,” Orion replied smoothly. One seconds her eyes lit up with anticipation and then disappointment. He was going to fix this, so she would be happy for the rest of her life. If any of the Frump children deserved to have her heart’s desire, it was Morticia.

All at once, Morticia’s good mood vanished. The Addams’s were coming to talk about Gomez’s potential marriage to Ophelia. “Then, our dear sister should be there, not me.”

“It has to be you,” Orion stated firmly. “Ophelia is off, obsessing over her latest beau, Victor. She’s not here, but you are, and I know you’d be a better match for Gomez.”

“You told me Ophelia was sick and couldn’t go to the ball,” Morticia stated, the anger rising in her voice. Her brother had an annoying habit of treating everyone like they were his own personal chess pieces.

“Technically, she is. Her obsession is her sickness,” Orion replied coolly. “What do you think she would do to a man like Gomez Addams if she were to fall for him?” he asked. They both knew their sister, the madness she was capable of.

Morticia felt whatever color she had drain away. “She’d drive him to suicide,” she answered in a horrified whisper. They had seen it several times before – and had covered it up.

“If he didn’t leave the country first,” Orion commented snidely. Luckily, a few of Ophelia’s beaus had had the means to escape her obsessive clutches. “Change your sweater to a black cardigan and take your hair down,” he said, looking her up and down.

Morticia was about to argue, but she knew that if they weren’t down there when the door was opened, she would be getting an ear full from mama. Pulling her swear off, she went to her closet and took a cardigan off a hanger. Slipping into it, she unbraided her hair, then proceeded to comb the black strands with her fingers. It was the best she could do at the moment. “Let’s go, _mon frere_ ,” Morticia stated, motioning to her bedroom door.

*******

Gomez Addams stood on a ramshackle porch with his mother, Eudora Addams, and his brother Fester. They were here to meet Hester Frump and her daughter Ophelia. He didn’t want to go through the door and see his potential bride – not when he had another woman on his mind. Morticia. She was a mysterious dark angel that had swooped into save him from the doldrums of his life. He could still feel her in his arms, the way she brushed up against him as they were dancing, the light in her eyes, and the painted red of her lips. Oh, how he longed to kiss those lips. Last night he had promised to find her no matter where she was. He wanted to be a man of his word for her.

“Mother, please don’t make me do this,” Gomez pleaded. He wanted to go back to daydreaming about Morticia, about replaying their waltz over and over.

“Hush, son,” Eudora scolded. Ever since she and Hester had been at school, they always talked about one day joining their families together. “We’re here now, and someone is opening the door.”

Dutifully, Gomez stepped back, his head lowered as they were escorted inside by a towering butler. Once they were inside, he let his eyes rove over all the antique items that lined the aged walls. He knew from his mother that this house had been around since the colonial era. Seeing it for himself, it showed. As he continued to let his eyes wander, they started to drift up the stairs where he found he most unexpected sight. His dark angel. Breaking ranks with his mother and brother, he crossed the grand foyer and stopped at the first step. “I told you I’d find you,” he said, placing his hand over his heart. Her shear staggering beauty was enough to send him to his grave.

“And it only took you one day, _mon ami_ ,” Morticia replied coming down the stairs to stand in front of him. He took her hand, bringing it up to his lips to place a gentle, but passionate, kiss to her knuckles.

“Oh, Tish, the way you speak French…” Gomez felt his Castilian blood heat in response to her lovely voice speaking the language of love.

Morticia felt her face flush when he called her ‘Tish’. No one had dared do that before. She liked the way her shortened nae rolled off his tongue. It was too easy to get lost in his eyes. Before she fell too far into him, she felt her brother nudge her. Clearing her throat, she said, “This is my brother, Orion.” Morticia stepped back, reluctant to let her hand fall from his.

Orion had witnessed for himself the connection between and he knew he was right in sending Morticia to the debutante ball in Ophelia’s place. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Addams.”

Gomez laughed a rich laugh, thrusting his hand out to the blond man. “Mr. Addams is my father. I’m just Gomez,” he replied keeping his eyes on Tish.

Hester watched her younger daughter with Eudora’s second son. A blind man could tell there was an instant attraction between them. Looking at Orion, her son shook his head, silently telling her that he would let her know what he had done soon enough.

Eudora sidled over to Hester, nudging her old friend. “What’s going on here?” she asked suspiciously.

“It appears your son has made his choice,” Hester replied.

“What about your firstborn – Ophelia?” Eudora had been made to understand that it was the first daughter that was open to the idea of marriage. Except, Ophelia was nowhere to be seen. Morticia, on the other hand, already had a connection to Gomez.

“Seeing Morticia and Gomez, she would be more of a match for him,” Hester stated quietly. “Ophelia is flighty and after seeing your son, I can see he needs someone like him. That’s Morticia. I mean look at them – they’re perfect.”

“I do see it,” Eudora replied. “Let’s talk,” she said, and a peal of thunder punctuated her sentence.

On the stairs, Orion whispered to his sister, “Take Gomez on the tour of the house and I’ll entertain the brother.”

Morticia flicked her gaze to her brother and nodded. “Follow me _monsieur_ ,” she said, stoking the fire inside him.

“It would be my pleasure, _querida,_ ” Gomez responded, offering his arm to her.

Morticia led the way up the stairs, turning towards the left, automatically heading towards her room. She hadn’t meant to go this way, but it was too late to change direction now. Once they were in the hall, Gomez had his hands on her waist, pushing her up against the wall, but he made no move to take her lips. Instead, he took her left hand and brought her wrist up to his lips where he kissed her exposed pulse point. Her breath caught in her chest. The press of his lips to her skin was intoxicating.

“You are beautiful in black, Tish,” Gomez crooned. His lips traveled up towards the bend of her arm. He breathed her in, growing addicted to the scent of her, the heat of her seeping into his body.

“ _Merci_ Gomez,” Morticia said, her voice purring when he reached the bend of her elbow. He growled against her arm, and the feel of his male appreciation made her knees shake. Then, he was traveling up her left bicep, pressing a kiss to her shoulder and moving towards the crook of her neck. Passion blossomed inside her, stealing her breath completely.

Gomez dropped his left hand, slipping it down her thigh to her knee. Gripping it, he brought her leg up to his waist. He leaned into her, letting her feel the weight of his desire for her. She eagerly responded to him, praising him with little gasps and moans. The way his name fell from her lips in a pleasure filled moan was music to his ears. “Let me take you to your room, Tish,” he begged unabashedly.

Morticia thought about it, even though she knew she should put a stop to this. No one has said she was stepping in to take Ophelia’s place as Gomez’s fiancé. Her body, however, was not listening. It wanted Gomez and it wanted whatever it could get right now. “The door behind you, _mon amour_ ,” she moaned. It was little good denying what her heart already knew. She was in love with him already.

Gomez lifted her easily, turning blindly for the door she had said was behind him. Locking his left arm around her slim waist, he used his right hand to search for the knob. He could use his eyes too, but that meant taking his lips away from the soft supple skin of her pale neck. He didn’t want to do that. She was too addicting, and he was just getting his second taste of her. Finally, his hand touched metal. Gripping it, he turned and walked into a room. From her reaction, it was the right one.

Morticia held tight to Gomez, being swept up in the moment of being with him. She was allowing herself to get attached to him without knowing if they were going to have a future together. Thoughtlessly, she reached out, shoving the door closed. It slammed and she heard it in the back of her mind. Nothing else mattered to her except Gomez and having him against her.

*******

Downstairs, four sets of eyes drifted towards the stairs upon hearing the slamming of a door. It was Orion who said, “We’re witches, the house is haunted.”

“The ghosts slam the doors?” Fester asked, half skeptical, half intrigued.

“Ghosts get bored,” Orion replied, shrugging his left shoulder. He wasn’t about to say he knew precisely what door it was that had slammed. Then, he and his mother shared a look. Orion shrugged again and screwed his face up in a look that told her not to worry.

*******

Gomez had Morticia in the center of her queen-sized bed. He devoured every inch of her exposed skin, letting his lips linger over her thundering pulse. They had to be careful with how far they took this. Certainly, he knew better, but his passions overrode his good sense and he had to have as much of her as he could get away with. She was just as eager as he was. He moaned when her heels dug into his backside, keeping him between her thighs. They were both still fully clothed. Still, that didn’t mean he couldn’t give her pleasure even through her clothes. He started to move down her body.

Morticia thought he was going to kiss her the moment his lips moved from the side of her neck. Instead, he kissed the hollow of her throat and then moved down her chest. “Gomez…” she moaned, “shouldn’t you kiss me before you kiss me?” She arched against him, rubbing herself against the hard length confined behind his dress pants.

“How inconsiderate of me, _cara mia,_ ” Gomez whispered seductively. Looming over her, his hands braced on either side of her shoulders, he swooped down, claiming her lips in their first heated kiss. He plunged his tongue into her mouth, branding her senses as belonging to him. Passionate possession was a double-edged sword. Gomez couldn’t claim Morticia without being taken by her as well. He belonged to her completely after just one kiss.

Morticia arched into him, her fingers clutching at his back, curling into the satin of his vest. She pulled him down on top of her, needing his weight pinning her to the bed, the black silk of her comforter. He could suck the very oxygen from her lungs, and she wouldn’t care. She would give it to him freely if that was what he wanted.

Gomez fought for as long as he could against the need to break the kiss and breathe. Now that he had the taste of her on his tongue, he knew he would never be able to survive another day without her in his life. Reluctantly, he broke the seal of their lips, but he couldn’t stop from giving her little teasing nips to her impossibly red bottom lip. A moan rumbled in his chest when her hand slid down his back, grabbing his backside. He ground his groin against her, making her moan in return.

“ _Mon cher_ …” Morticia purred wickedly. He thrust against her, stirring the pleasure spiraling through her. She pushed her head back against the bed, exposing the line of her neck which he ravenously attacked with his heated kisses. Biting her bottom lip, she fought to keep a loud moan quiet as she felt a small orgasm roll through her.

Gomez rode out the wave of her pleasure while he fought his body’s need to follow her into ecstasy. She clutched at him, quivering, and he savored the feel of her against him. He would revel in her for the rest of his life – he knew that now. “Oh _querida_ …” he growled against her ear, making her shudder.

Somewhere, through Morticia’s pleasure addled brain, she heard a strange buzzing sound. Releasing her hold n Gomez, she moved to her side as best she could with his delicious weight still pressing sown upon her. On her black painted nightstand, her cellphone was buzzing. Panic raced through her as she reached for it. Her heart was racing and her breathing ragged, but she swiped her thumb across the screen and asked quickly, “Ophelia, what’s wrong?”

 _“Oh, Morticia, it’s terrible! He’s dead! Someone shot my precious Victor.”_ A pause. _“Morticia why are you so out of breath?”_

“Wrestling… with Kitty Cat,” Morticia lied through her teeth.

Gomez arched his right eyebrow, silently questioning her about her blatant dishonesty. She shook her head at him as he continued to keep her pinned to the bed beneath him, as he stayed between her magnificent thighs impossibly hard and wanting more of what they had been doing.

Morticia shook her head, begging him to be quiet. Then, to her sister, she said, “Tell me where you are, and Orion and I will come get you.” A sickening feeling come over her, snuffing out the erotic flames that Gomez had lit inside her. She imagined her sister standing in the center of a grizzly scene – the latest man to receive her attentions dead at her feet. This was another mess she and Orion would have to clean up and hide to keep Ophelia out of trouble.

********

Downstairs, Orion felt his phone buzz in his pocket. While he continued to follow the conversation between mama and Mrs. Addams, he pulled out his cell and read the text from Morticia. Shouldn’t his little sister be occupied with the dashing suitor?

_Tell-Tale Heart – M_

Orion’s blood ran cold. When either one of them named that particular work by Edgar Allen Poe, it was a red alert that Ophelia had done it again. Another man was dead. Careful to keep the dread off his face, he leaned over to his mother and said softly, “Forgive me, mama, but Ophelia needs me to come and get her. She’s stranded on the side of the road and is quite distraught.”

“Ophelia isn’t even here?” Eudora questioned, pinning her old friend with a suspicious stare.

“My eldest is often given to flights of fancy, taking off when the mood strikes her,” Hester lied flawlessly. She’d perfected the art of telling tales to cover up the misdeeds of her troubled daughter.

“Excuse me, please,” Orion said, standing up. “Mama, I’m going to take Morticia with me. She’ll help calm her down.” He didn’t want for his mother’s approval. While his father was gone, Orion was the head of the house and he had the authority to make the decisions he thought were best. Racing up the old stairs, he turned left down the hall, heading for Morticia’s room.

Orion knocked once, opened the door, and walked in. Gomez was sitting on the bed with his arms crossed over his chest, looking perplexed as he stared at the open closet door. Coming further into the room, he saw Morticia pulling on black knee-high riding boots with a flat heel. Not waiting to get into an epic explanation with Gomez, he asked his sister, “What did she say?” Eventually, he knew Morticia would tell her intended every sordid little detail about Ophelia.

Morticia looked at Gomez, silently asking him not to voice any questions he might have. She would explain later. “She’s upset, saying someone shot Victor.”

“Someone?” Orion asked in a skeptical manner.

“From what she says, yes,” Morticia replied as she picked up her heavy black cloak. She’d learned the hard way not to leave this long outer garment home. More often than not, they would find Ophelia covered in the blood of her beloved.

“Tish, is there anything I can do to help?” Gomez offered, going to her. He didn’t want her rushing off into a dangerous situation without him. If something happened to her, he couldn’t bear it.

“No, she’s our sister, and we have to do this,” Morticia responded. She didn’t want to leave him, not like this.

“Soon, I’ll be your family, and I want you to know you can trust me with things like this,” Gomez replied softly. Pressing his lips to her brow, he said, “Trust me, _querida._ ”

Morticia shuddered, breathing out shakily. “I do, _mon amour_ ,” she whispered, leaning into him for a second. Stepping back, she showed him with her eyes how much she wanted him to come along. Instead, she moved around him and went to stand next to her brother. “I would die if something happened to you at the hands of our sister. Please, stay here.” With one look, she told him she would tell him everything later.

“Then, here I will wait for you, Tish,” Gomez replied and gave her a little bow. She rushed to him, looping her left arm around the back of his neck, dragging his lips to hers. Kissing him hard and fast, she left him breathless and unable to speak while she fled from the room.

**CHERRYBLOSSOM LANE:**

Morticia looked out the front passenger window, curling her lip in revulsion at all the cookie-cutter houses with white picket fences and blossoming flower bushes in the front lawn. Ophelia would feel right at home in a place like this – for a while at least. “It’s at the end of the lane,” she told Orion as he drove.

“You want to tell him everything, don’t you?” Orion asked, and he didn’t mean what they were about to do for Ophelia.

“Is that so wrong? If things go the way he – we – want, then I’ll be his wife and he should know,” Morticia said rationally.

“I promise you, little sister, you will be his wife,” Orion swore. He could suck it up for the sake of Morticia unfailing honesty. Of course, she would want to tell Gomez the truth.

“Who am I kidding? Father will never allow it. He wants to marry Ophelia off and get her out of his hair. As for me, he’s always treated me with a benign neglect,” Morticia lamented, slouching down in the front seat.

“Father isn’t here, and I get final say, as he’s entrusted me with making this match between our families. And mama is no dummy, she sees what’s between you and Gomez. I will see to it that you are married to him if that’s what you truly want.” Reginald Frump was currently seeing to the acquisition of some oil fields that would restore the wealth and prestige of the Frump name. He had little time to worry about which of his daughters was really marrying into the Addams family,

“I have never wanted anyone in the way I want him,” Morticia confessed in a hushed whisper. “I want to be his wife more than anything.” Before she could get her darkest heart’s desire, they had to see to Ophelia and make sure they all walked away without being arrested for murder or tampering with a body.

Orion rounded a bend in the road and saw the house where Ophelia’s beau had lived. It was quiet and no one was standing out on their front lawn wondering why there was a shrieking woman in white balling her eyes out. The house directly across from Victors had a for sale sign posted, as the houses on either side. “At least he doesn’t have neighbors…. Yet.”

“A small mercy,” Morticia agreed. “It looks like there’s an access road that’ll take us around behind this row. We can enter through the back, clean up as best we can, and get Ophelia out of there.”

“All right,” Orion said with a short nod of his head.

“You don’t think she actually did it this time, do you?” Morticia asked the question they had been avoiding.

“No,” Orion answered honestly. “She’s many things, but she could never pull the trigger.”

“Not even if she thinks…?” Morticia started to ask but stopped herself when she looked at her brother.

“It’ll never come to that,” Orion stated resolutely. Silence fell between them as he turned on to the access road and followed it around to Victor Dubbin’s house. From the outside, everything looked normal, but they knew from experience, that looks were deceiving. Parking the 1932 Packard twin six under a stand of trees, they got out and walked briskly across the back lawn.

Morticia kept looking around to make sure no one was paying them much attention, even though the houses appeared to be vacant. She made sure to notice if there were any security camera’s mounted on the house. So far, luck was on their side. She followed Orion to the sliding glass door. His black gloved hand tested the handle and it slid open easily. The smell of blood reached them.

Orion stepped inside first, automatically checking to make sure there was no threat to Morticia. It was as silent as a tomb, so he motioned her inside. He shut and secured the sliding glass door, then drew the blinds closed. After that, they followed the scent of blood into the living room. A portly man was dead on the floor, a shotgun in his right hand, and most of his head missing. Blood and brain matter were on the ceiling, the mantle, and the brick fireplace. Curled up on the corner of the couch was Ophelia, rocking back and forth with blood on her face and hands. He shared a look with Morticia, both sighing dejectedly.

Morticia skirted the dead body and the pool of blood, heading to the couch. “Ophelia, dearest, why don’t you come with me and get cleaned up.” Behind her, Orion was already going in search of cleaning supplies and something to secure Victor in the rug. Lucky for them, the living room was all hardwood, and the carpet had soaked up most of the blood.

“I can’t leave him like this….” Ophelia sobbed.

“He won’t be alone. Orion will be with him,” Morticia said softly.

“Orion?” Ophelia asked, hiccupping.

“That’s right, darling, our brother will stay with Victor while you come with me and get cleaned up. You don’t want to have blood on your face, do you?” Morticia asked, holding out her hand to her sister. She had to be careful when coaxing Ophelia from her grief.

“You’ll stay with him, Orion?” Ophelia asked as she walked in a haze with Morticia guiding her towards the kitchen.

“Of course, I will,” Orion said, placing his hand over his heart in promise. Once his two sisters were in the kitchen, he started to study the body. Something seemed wrong to him. When Ophelia told him about her new love, he did a cursory background check – learning his size, weight, that he was left handed, his daily routine, where he worked, and the routes he took there and back. A few things he was seeing didn’t make sense given what he knew about the man lying dead at his feet.

In the kitchen, Morticia stood at the sink with Ophelia while the water ran hot. On the counter near her were shopping bags full of household sundries. Certain that her troubled sister wouldn’t wander away, she poked through them with her gloved hands. In one she found hydrogen peroxide. She pulled the bottle out and grabbed the folded white dish towel resting on a bronze ring mounted on the lower cabinet. After she had Ophelia cleaned up, she would look through the other bags for useful cleaning supplies that took care of blood and DNA.

Ophelia stared at the water running down the drain barely hearing anything that was happening around her. She looked up at the small window over the sink and took in the blood on her pale skin and in her blonde hair. It was smudged across her face like it had been painted there. Her hands had been dipping with Victor’s blood, but now it was dry and flaking. “Why does this keep happening to me, Morticia?” she asked, turning her head to look at her little sister wearing all black. Morticia was the polar opposite of her – the only trait they shared in common was their deathly pale skin.

“I truly don’t know, my dearest,” Morticia said softly. She doused the dish rag with the peroxide and set about cleaning the blood from Ophelia’s face. “Were you here when poor Victor was killed so savagely?”

“No,” Ophelia said, shaking her head slightly. “I heard the shot, though. It was so loud.” She brought her hands up, covering her ears.

“No, honey, don’t do that,” Morticia said gently. Some of the blood on Ophelia’s hand was still wet. It would get in her hair. She cleaned away the last few specks of blood from her face and then folded over the dish towel. “I want you to wash your hands with lots of soap and pay attention to under your nails. You don’t want to leave any blood behind on your skin. I’m going to go check on Orion and Victor.”

Orion knelt carefully by the body, mutedly listening to his sisters speak. He couldn’t properly examine the scene without touching the body. If he did that, there might be evidentiary transfer from him to the corpse and that would be more of a problem in the long run. As it was, he was going to have a time wrapping it up in the rug. If he was going to haul it out, he would need Morticia’s help.

“Anything?” Morticia asked gaining Orion’s attention.

“He didn’t kill himself,” Orion confirmed. “Victor is left-handed, and the shotgun is in his right. His face is missing and there is an entry wound in the back of his head. This was done with a .45 caliber handgun at least.

“Ophelia said she heard the shot and that it was loud,” Morticia said.

“It means she found the body moments after it happened. We have to get rid of it,” Orion replied in a hushed tone.

“I’ll find some rope,” Morticia stated. Suddenly a loud crack of thunder and a slash of lightning lit the dark sky. The storm she had seen on the horizon was finally breaking. “We better work fast.” Another piece of fortune was with them, out back large rectangle section of earth had been dug out, presumably for the planting of trees to help delineate the property line. It would be as good of place as any to bury poor, dead Victor.

TBC...


	2. Chapter 2

The violent storm that had been brewing, finally broke. Orion, Ophelia, and Morticia made it back to the old Frump manor moments before the bridge was submerged from the torrential rains. In the time it took them to get from the car to the old, covered porch, the trio was soaked straight through to the bone. Lurch was there to open the door. He was their ever faithful, reliable butler, and he had large black towels for them when they came through the door.

Morticia wrapped herself up, taking the edges to wipe away the trails of rainwater from her face. She started to shiver as she walked further into the house. Her feet carried her to the stairs, where her intention was to go to her room, change, and then return to sit by the fire to warm up. Unfortunately, she couldn’t indulge in her own needs. Turning back to her siblings, she schooled her features into quiet concern, and returned to her sisters’ side. Together, she and Orion guided Ophelia up the stairs, turning right, and into her room. It was bright and airy, and littered with vases of daisies. It took all Morticia had not to roll her eyes.

“Okay, Ophelia, let’s get you out of this cloak and tucked into bed,” Orion said gently as he removed the thick black cloak he had bundled her in before leaving Victor’s house. She would be going to bed with a wet head. That was more than he could say for Morticia and himself. A silent look to Morticia had her going to the dresser, where she poured a glass of water and added a few drops of belladonna to help Ophelia drop off into sleep.

Carrying the glass, Morticia offered it to Orion. Motioning towards the door with her head, she silently conveyed that she was going to leave the rest to him. Orion patted her hand softly, smiling in acknowledgement. He knew she hated to be in this room. Out in the hall, she breathed a sigh of relief. The darkness of the hall, the gloomy décor – all of it chased away the cheerfulness of Ophelia’s daisy infested room.

Morticia finally made it to dark confines of her room. A fire was already lit in the hearth, heating the white fur of the polar bear rug she named Rufus. If someone but her stepped on him, he would growl menacingly. Morticia was the only one allowed to languish on him in comfort. She draped the towel over the back of the sitting chair and then proceeded to strip out of her wet clothing. There were hooks built into the mantle where she hung each article of clothing so the fire could dry them. Taking the towel in hand, she wrapped it around her naked, clammy body, and then went to sit on the edge of her bed. She gave into the shivers racing through her.

Gomez had stayed in the conservatory with his mother and brother talking with Mrs. Frump for as long as he could. Morticia had come back and he felt the intense need to go to her. He glanced at Fester, who in turn was studying him intently. They had hardly spoken since last night. Fester was still annoyed that Gomez had started out the night flirting with Flora and Fauna, and then like a switch being flipped, ignored him. “Mother, Mrs. Frump, might I be excused?”

“To go where?” Eudora Addams asked. She had found it increasingly difficult to keep his attention focused on his future.

“You know I love a good torrential downpour,” Gomez said smoothly. “I’d like to stand out on the porch, if that’s alright with you, Mrs. Frump?” he asked politely.

“You may,” Hester answered, smiling. Though, she sensed that the porch was not his destination.

“Thank you,” Gomez got up, and inclined his head to their hostess. Leaving the conservatory, he crossed the expanse of the receiving room, and then turned sharply to the right, taking the stairs two at a time until he was standing at Morticia’s door. He knocked twice, waiting for her to bid him enter.

“ _Come in_.”

Gomez twisted the knob, careful to keep the door from making a sound, lest it give him away. Slipping into the room, he was caught off guard by her beauty once more. She was wrapped up in a black towel, her long hair curling from the water, the red of her lips dulled with the chill he could see hanging around her. “ _Querida-mia_ ,” he crooned, going to her. Taking her in his arms, she felt as if she were carved from ice rather than a living breathing person. “What happened?” he asked, tucking her head under his chin.

“Let’s go sit by the fire,” Morticia whispered, reluctantly leaving his addictive hold. She took the throw pillows from the sitting chairs, and arranged them on Rufus, propping them up against the back of his head. He didn’t so much as grumble in dissent. She gracefully lowered herself down, sucking in a sharp breath as the heat licked across her cold skin. The heat from the fur, helped to breathe life back into her body. What she really needed was Gomez’s arms wrapped around her.

Gomez was to her side in an instant, pulling her back against his chest. Nonplused by the grumblings from the rug, he stretched out on his side, resting his shoulders and head on the pillows. He shifted her slightly, to rest her head on his chest. The water from her hair instantly soaking through his shirt. It didn’t matter to him. Comforting Morticia was all he wanted to do. “What happened with your sister?”

Morticia shifted back against Gomez, molding her body to his, feeling how well they fit together. She took a moment to gather her thoughts, to savor the touch of his finger as it played the outer edge of her ear. “It wasn’t what we expected,” she finally said. “The man was dead, but not by his own hand.” With her back to Gomez, she looked up, and saw the spirit of the man she was talking about. He stood around with either others – all victims of Ophelia’s obsession.

“Someone else killed him?” Gomez asked, shocked by the revelation. He was expecting to hear how the mad sister drove a man to take his own life… not this. Something about it was troubling to Morticia. He had to be patient until she felt she could tell him more.

“Orion seems to think so,” Morticia replied. Her brother trained as a crime scene investigator for a while until father put a stop to it. He didn’t want his son to muck around with the dead indigents of society. Flicking her gaze up, she waited for the ghost of Victor Dubbin to confirm this. The best he could give her was a shrug and nod.

“What do you think, Tish” Gomez asked. She seemed to know more than she was saying. He would let her have her secrets for now. Eventually, she would come to trust him and when that time came, he hoped she would tell him everything.

Morticia shifted, lying on her back, looking Gomez in her eyes. “I don’t know what to think,” she responded. The quiet consideration and immediate trust in her answer was plain to see in his eyes. He was trusting her. She should at least do the same. “By now you can see my family is odd, even by Addams standards. Some of us are witches, some go crazy, and others are perfectly normal. Orion and I have power like mama, like other relatives. Ophelia, however, is losing her grip on reality day by day. Each man that has fallen victim to her unwanted attention, she thinks will awaken a particular power she’s long desired. The ability to see and commune with spirits.” There, she said it.

“She’ll never have this power, will she?” Gomez questioned quietly. Tish had this scared expression in her eyes, on her face. It was as if admitting to it was a betrayal of some kind.

“No,” Morticia confessed, “because I have it.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. In a moment of relief and regret. She had promised Orion she would never tell a living soul about her abilities. No one could be trusted with this information and for the longest time, Morticia had believed Orion was the only capable of knowing and keeping her secret. Then Gomez Addams had entered her life. She knew the moment she met him that he was strong enough to withstand the power of her secrets. Steadily, over the years, she had started to understand the deaths of each of Ophelia’s beaus. They may have been driven to it by her, but each one had a little piece of the puzzle she had been missing. Ophelia suspected her of having this ability. Ice ran through her veins each time she encountered a new ghost. She often wondered if that would be the day her sister confronted her.

Gomez accepted her answer and moved on. Nothing he learned about Tish would make him see her as anything other than what she was – an amazing woman. “How did you come to possess such abilities?”

Morticia smiled shyly at him, feeling a little bit of a blush creep into her cheeks. Nothing seemed to faze this man. It was miraculous. “When I was fifteen, I went to spend the summer with my Uncle Edward. He was always a bit of a swamp wizard – preferring the company of deadly plants to people. Orion and Ophelia were out of the country with father while mama had gone to see her sister, who had fallen ill. There had been no one to watch me or Kitty cat. So, I was packed into the car, Kitty loaded into a trailer, and Lurch drove us to my uncles.”

Gomez settled deeper into the pillows, holding Tish close as she regaled him with tales of her wild adventure during the summer of her fifteenth year. She confessed to running through the forest in the dead of night, howling like a demon. Then there were the herbology lessons her uncle imparted to her – which plants to use for poison, for cures, and which ones to leave alone. He could picture her easily as a dark teenage pixie. The fact she had a lion as a pet fit who she was as a person.

“The small-town Uncle Edward lived in was as backwards as they came,” Morticia said sadly. “They still feared witches and for a while, they casually ignored my uncle as he had chosen to live outside the town boundary, but all that changed when I saw my first ghost. It was the spirit of a little boy that had wandered into the forest and didn’t return. Being the curious girl, I followed the apparition to where his bones lay. He had fallen into a chasm, broke his leg, and died.” She had climbed down to retrieve as much as she could so she could return to the body to the family. Only, the boy had died in 1784. There was only one living relative – a scared and superstitious old woman. She didn’t believe the bones belonged to the family, even when confronted with the little tin soldier that the family was known for making.

“Tish, what it is it? What happened?” Gomez angled his head, looking at her face. It was closed off, and her eyes were shut. He could see tears sticking to her thick black lashes.

“I was only trying to do the right thing,” Morticia responded, her words breaking under the weight of her deeply buried sorrow. “The little boy only wanted to go home…”

“Oh, _cara mia_ ,” Gomez cupped the back of her head with his right hand, holding her as she hid her face against his chest. He kissed her forehead gently, over and over, letting her cry for as long as she needed. It must have been so terrible for her to keep this traumatic experience to herself for so long. “I’m here,” he whispered.

“The townspeople came in the middle of the night with torches and pitchforks. They dragged us from the cottage…” Morticia said in a horrified whisper. “They were taking us to be burned at the stake.”

“You don’t have to tell me anymore,” Gomez replied quickly. He didn’t want her to relive something so barbaric. There was pain… and then there was pain. One, he often liked to indulge in, finding the pleasure in subjecting his body to agony at the hands of another. The pain she was relating to him was the other kind of emotional pain that no one should go through.

“My uncle died so that I may live, and I’m scared that Ophelia will find out about me, because she has always wanted this power,” Morticia confessed, feeling the weight of it finally lifting from her chest. It had been pressing down on her like a stone for years.

“As long as I live, no one will hurt you, I swear it,” Gomez vowed. It didn’t matter that things were still up in the air regarding his future wife. He was convinced more now than ever that he was going to marry Morticia. No other woman on the face of the planet would ever be as dear to him, as perfect, as the dark creature in his arms. “Now, close your eyes _querida_ , and sleep a little while. I’ll be here when you wake.”

Morticia had never felt so safe as she did in the arms of Gomez Addams. She shut her eyes and trusted him to protect her while she slept.

*****

Orion finally tucked Ophelia into bed. He went to check on Morticia, only to find her door closed and Kitty Cat lying in front of it, guarding his mistress from all who would dare disturb her. The great beast looked at him with amber eyes, grimaced, scenting the air, and knew Orion meant no harm, but that didn’t mean the mass of hair was going to move. He stood there for a few more minutes, listening, trying to hear the muffled words filling the room. Whatever she was doing, she was being careful and quiet about it. Orion decided to leave her to it. She already had a ferocious guard at her door.

Not bothering to change, Orion returned to the ground floor, hearing the voices in the conservatory. Mama was telling some outlandish story that made him smirk in amusement. Fester was lurking by the banister, his eyes riveted to the left set of stairs. “Are you looking for a tour?” Orion asked congenially. He could play host while two old school chums caught up after so many years apart.

“No,” Fester responded automatically. He knew his playboy of a brother hadn’t gone outside like he said. Gomez was upstairs, no doubt seducing the younger Frump daughter. Last night Fester had been so close to asking the Amour twins to marry him, but then there was Gomez… When his Spaniard brother was in the room, women noticed, and immediately wanted his attention. Flora and Fauna were lusting after Gomez now.

“Whatever issue you’re having with your brother, perhaps now is the best time to let the resentment fade,” Orion suggested.

“I’m surprised your being so calm considering Gomez is probably up there right now sowing his wild oats with your little sister. The man is unapologetically a libertine. He’ll leave her the moment he gets bored with her,” Fester said spitefully.

Orion could see where this was going. There was a rift forming between the brothers and if he didn’t so something, then it might hinder Morticia marrying Gomez and securing a better future for herself. “Perhaps you need your fortune told,” he suggested. “I’m a bit of a clairvoyant in certain circles.”

Fester scoffed dramatically.

“Oh, come on, give it a try,” Orion challenged. He had to get attention away from what Morticia and Gomez were possibly doing.

Fester reluctantly agreed.

*****

As the storm raged on, Gomez kept Tish safely tucked in against his body, warming her in conjunction with the fire. She had slipped into a fitful sleep. When she started to fight against him, battling whatever dream demon that had come to torment her, he would whisper to her in Spanish, promising her the moon and the stars, telling her that his love for her would rival that of any literary lovers throughout history. He vowed to be there when she needed someone to lean on. He would worship her, devote himself only to her, and building their life together. They would be true partners in life, and nothing would tear them apart. Gently, he pressed a light kiss to her furrowed brow.

Morticia awoke with a startling jolt. After the fog cleared from her mind, she remembered she had fallen asleep with Gomez watching over her. She had fallen into dark memories of her last summer with Uncle Edward, but unlike all the times before, she wasn’t depressed when opening her eyes. Her wrists didn’t burn in remembrance of the rope being tied around them. Her upper arms didn’t ache from the strong grip of the men hauling her out of her uncle’s house. The soles of her feet did throb from running into the forest without shoes on. That night, Kitty had been with her, protecting her from the wind and the rain, from the angry townies that wanted her dead.

Gomez waited until she was fully free from the grips of her dream before he spoke. Her eyes were a little unfocused but there was a little smile on her robust red lips. “Are you feeling better, _cara mia_?” he asked softly.

“I feel free… more so than I have in years,” Morticia replied lightly. For a few more minutes, she wanted to stay like this with him, to bask in the solitude and the safety she found with him. The whole world had fallen away while they were together, but she knew that sooner or later someone was going to come to her door and disturb them.

“I’ll never keep you restrained… unless you ask me too,” Gomez responded, wagging his brows. During her little emotionally exhausted siesta, he had been stroking her back in comfort. The tips of his fingers brushed over several thin scars, barely noticeable, but he knew what they were. Whip marks.

“Leather straps? Floggers?” Morticia asked hopefully. His response was to kiss her, hard and fast and deeply. In that heated kiss she felt a hunger for sensual pain that matched her own desires. They shifted, until he was cradled between her thighs for the second time today. The towel parted, falling on either side of her body, letting her skin feel the fabric of his clothes.

Gomez rained kisses down her body making her arch her back, displaying her delicately delicious body. Tearing himself away from her, he stripped off his vest, untied the red silk cravat, and quickly unbuttoned his shirt, freeing it from his body. He had to feel her flesh pressed to his. Gomez craved it more than his next breath. Leaning down, his lips touched hers once again. The passion in his blood ignited when her arms draped over his shoulders and her nails were gouging his back in painful pleasure.

Morticia let the rest of the world fall away. She wasn’t concerned with any of it except for Gomez. Her head was spinning in heady desire for him, but she wasn’t going to be some demur paramour, content to lie beneath him. When he shifted slightly to her side, she took it as her opening to take him beneath her. The spark of surprise lit in his eyes but was quickly replaced by exhilaration. She took his hands, bringing his wrists together, holding them in place. With her right hand, she blindly searched for the cravat he’d discarded.

Gomez flicked his gaze away, spotting the scrap of silk, and then looked back at her. She turned, grabbed it, and used it to tie his hands. A grumble of appreciation filled the silence of the room, mixing with the crackling of the logs in the hearth. “This is thrilling,” he whispered seductively. Women had been content to let him be the one to seduce them. Having Tish take charge fired his blood.

Tightening the silk knot, Morticia lifted his hands above his head, and looped the restraint in the open mouth of Rufus. Leaning over Gomez, she whispered, “Bite.” The jaws clamped down, shocking Gomez. She felt it radiate through his body. Laughing lightly, she kissed his cheek and then said, “The rug is enchanted.” No matter how hard he fought, his bonds wouldn’t give way, and Rufus would not relinquish his hold until he was told to.

“Now that I’m bound, _querida_ , what will you do with me?” Gomez asked, shifting beneath her in a teasing invitation. She moved off him, sitting to his left side. Her long fall of dark hair rested over her left shoulder, teaming with simulated red highlights from the fire. The longer he stared at her, the stronger his love for her grew.

“I’m going to admire you being at my mercy,” Morticia responded, chuckling wickedly. She had thought about putting the towel on, but she immediately dismissed it. Gomez and his ravenous gaze didn’t make her feel uncomfortable. It made her feel desired. Setting her hand to his chest, she curled her fingers, raking her nails down his flesh. He pressed his hand back into the pillows, growling for her. Moments later, red lines appeared. She leaned down over his, pressing her lips to them, nipping and licking at the nearest scratch.

Gomez moaned, closing his eyes as the pleasure pulsed through his body. Her lips were steadily moving lower and he couldn’t contain his excitement. Suddenly, she sat up, and when he opened his eyes to look at her, she had a wicked little grin on her lips. Her hands busied themselves with undoing his belt. A yank here and tug there helped to free the leather from the loops of his slacks. While she unhooked the metal tab, he toed of his shoes. The hiss of the zipper echoed all around them.

******

Downstairs, Hester pulled her son off to the side. “Tell me the truth, what did Ophelia really do?” She had been increasingly worried about her firstborn. It was clear that Ophelia had no magical aptitude – not like Orion and Morticia. She thought her children would be spared the Frump curse that afflicted so many in the clan.

Orion idly poured mulberry wine into silver goblets. His body language remained relaxed for the sake of their guests. “Men have been dying around my dear twin as of late. Eight in total, but never by her own hand. They chose to eat a bullet rather than continue to be the object of Ophelia’s affections.” It was succinct and simple as explanations went. Some in the family that exhibited no magical prowess lead ordinary lives. Then, there were those like Ophelia, who wanted power more than anything, and it ended up driving them insane.

“Today’s victim?” Hester asked, taking a cue from her son, and acting as if they were discussing the meal that had been prepared.

“Morticia and I buried it in the backyard and cleaned up as much evidence as we could,” Orion told his mother. “Don’t worry, mama, I did what had to be done to protect both of them.”

“That’s why you sent Morticia to the ball last night,” Hester stated. Orion nodded. Her son had always had a knack for divining the future – especially as it pertained to his little sister.

“Mama, she’s the one to join the Addams clan. Father may not understand Morticia’s potential, but I do, and I know you see it. She could flourish with them. If she remains with us, she’ll always be in Ophelia’s shadow.”

“And what of Ophelia?” Hester flicked her gaze up to the cracked ceiling.

“I’ll always be the one to take care of my twin,” Orion replied sadly. Even as he was making it possible for Morticia to find her freedom, he was sealing his fate at the same time. With each step Morticia took towards Gomez, Orion felt metaphysical chains being forged around him and Ophelia. Her madness would condemn them both.

Sitting at the dining table, Eudora casually watched Fester. He was oddly subdued and introspective at the moment. Fester was usually quiet when he wasn’t sure what to make of others. Outside the Addams Clan, people tended to regard them as freaks. “You’ve hardly spoken since coming here.”

“I don’t know why you insisted I come along mother,” Fester snapped in a hushed voice. He would have been perfectly content to remain at the mansion fiddling with his dynamite caps. From his perspective, there was no need for him to be here to watch his brother woo another woman that he would just add to the garland he’d already possessed.

“I’m trying to keep you away from those terrible twins,” Eudora replied tersely.

Fester rolled his eyes and slouched down in his chair. If what the blond said was true, then he wouldn’t be around much longer to get into any trouble with Flora and Fauna. He wouldn’t be around to watch Gomez fawn over Morticia. The more he thought about it, traveling seemed like the thing he needed.

Eudora shook her head. Fester was one who was prone to sulking no matter what was happening. To Hester, she asked, “Where is Morticia? I should think she and my amorous son would be here to at least enjoy a hearty dinner with us.”

Orion placed the tray of drinks on the table and said, “Well, Morticia is in her room, but Kitty Cat is at her door and he won’t let anyone get close if she doesn’t wish it.”

“Just pick the fuzzball up,” Fester sniped.

“That fuzzball is a lion,” Hester remarked, casting a glance to Eudora, who only shrugged. “He’s particularly protective over Morticia – has been ever since she was teen.” That summer had been particularly hard on Hester’s husband, Reginald. He had lost his brother to an angry mob, and for one terrible moment, he thought he’d lost a daughter. It was Hester who had found Morticia hiding in a cave, impossibly dirty and barely recognizable. The mass of fur had kept her baby safe and for that alone, she put up with the large cat’s antics.

******

Morticia had taken her sweet time exploring the expanse of Gomez’s body. The moderately muscled plains of his chest, the lean waist and strong legs. Each time she found an erogenous zone, his moan filled the room. Teasingly, she ran the back of her fingers up the inside of his left thigh, inching closer to the pulsating velvet shaft. She lightly ran her nails along his lower abdomen making his muscles tense, his toes curl, and his head pressed back into the pillows. While he was distracted, she knelt over him and waited.

Gomez felt Morticia straddle him and it was the moment he’d been waiting for. He had studied escapology as a child when Fester would tie him up or put him in a cage – as brothers do for entertainment. Having freed his hands from the silk restraints, he sat up, wrapping his arms around her slender waist. Bring his feet together, his knees fell open to support her as they joined their bodies together for the first time. “I’ve got you, Tish,” he said softly.

Morticia rested her left hand on his shoulder, her stomach rife with traitorous butterflies. She wanted this, but she was nervous at the same time. Reaching down between them, she took him in hand and positioned him against her entrance. His hands held her backside, letting her set the pace. Slowly, she sank down on him. Her inner muscles started to sting as they stretched to accommodate him. Breathing raggedly, she took him the rest of the way inside. She threaded her fingers through his hair, yanking his back to kiss him. Morticia moaned deeply into his mouth as she moved her hips in a slow rocking motion.

Gomez greedily kissed her back, ravishing her mouth with the same slow build. From this moment on, he knew she would be his greatest hunger. All of cravings would pale in compassions to making love with Morticia. Her body had been made for him – from her legs wrapped around him, to her fingers curled in his hair, and her intimate entrance gripping him so tightly. “ _Cara mia…_ ” he moaned as the ecstasy started to build.

Morticia found her rhythm, moving back and forth in easy glides that made her blind to everything except for him. The hardness of his body, the tight grip of his fingers, and the way he filled her was beyond her power to describe. He surrounded her, branding her senses with his taste, his touch, and his scent. She thoroughly belonged to him in this moment, and for every one that came after. There was no future that didn’t have Gomez in her life. “ _Mon cher,_ I want no one but you,” Morticia whispered against his lips.

“You’ll have me, forever,” Gomez vowed passionately. He gripped her, guiding her to a faster pace. Her inner muscles clamped down on him, trying to hold him tightly in place. His body tensed, his hips thrust sharply, driving him deeply inside her. She cried out, wrapping her arms around his shoulders tightly. He felt her come with him, sealing their pleasure in the arms of the other.

*******

Celestina had made herself scare the moment she saw the Addams boy disappear into Morticia’s room. She spent her time glaring at the giant mass of fur lying at the door, not fooled the beast for one second. “ _Don’t think I don’t see you, Edward Frump,_ ” she said harshly.

Kitty looked up, blinked and then yawned. The leonine head went back to resting his chin on his massive paws, and a sickly pale green spirt rose up from the feline body. “ _Someone has to protect that girl, and it might as well be me,_ ” Edwards replied tersely. “ _Did you find what I wanted?_ ” he asked before she could hurl curse after curse at him. Frankly, he didn’t have the patience – even though he was dead and had all the time in the world – for her particular band of sass.

“ _I did, even though it wasn’t difficult to locate. When Morticia has need of it, she’ll be able to find it_ ,” Celestina replied, crossing her ghostly arms over her chest. She was more than a little put out that she was doing all the work for him. All he had to do was appear to their young charge and tell her what she had to do. He categorically refused. Morticia had to discover her true power for herself.

Edward rolled his eyes and returned to possessing the feline body of Kitty cat – Morticia’s fierce guardian. The sounds from a moment ago had died down. All he could hear was heavy breathing. Laying his head down, he waited.

TBC.....


	3. Chapter 3

Morticia stared at the dying embers in the hearth as she lay with Gomez at her back. He had his left arm draped across her chest, with his hand wedged under her side keeping her firmly against him. The towel she had been wearing was draped over their waists. He busied himself with nibbling the crook of her neck, whispering to her in his seductive Spanish tongue. She flexed her fingers, bringing the fire roaring back to life.

Gomez reacted, lifting his head to look at the blaze alive and well in the fireplace. “How did you do that?”

“The power of fire is a LaRue family trait from Mama’s side of the family,” Morticia answered softly. Reginald Frump had gone to New Orleans on a business venture and had come back with a bride from a powerful line of southern witches. The union between two mystical bloodlines had resulted in the resurgences of powers within the families. Her ability to see spirits hadn’t been in the Frump family for nearly one hundred and fifty years.

“Is that where the French comes from?” Gomez asked, with a rumbling purr of approval. He loved listening to her tongue tumble out those fiery French words that set his passionate blood aflame in his veins.

“My maternal bloodline traces to Louisiana, to Prague, and France,” Morticia explained. “During Europe’s witch trials, my maternal family fled to French populated Louisiana in the late 1700’s and imbedded themselves into the foundation of New Orleans.” Witches were a staple of the city and in the French Quarter. “My father’s family dates back to the Mayflower, then to Salem during the trials and to the witches they never burned. Back then the Frump line was rife with mediums and nature-based witches.” Morticia turned over on her back, looking up into his face. She would be forever in thrall to him, to the wickedness in his eyes, the sensuousness of his lips, to the sound of his voice professing his love for her. “And what of your family?”

Gomez chuckled lightly, resting his hand upon her belly, his fingers rubbing back and forth slowly. “The Addams clan is comprised of many different nationalities. My father is from a distinguished Spanish line. For a while, the family was spread all throughout Spain and Portugal and they regarded us as Shadow Royalty. We were a family open to all those that society deemed weird and unacceptable. To protect what we had built we had become cutthroats, assassins, thieves, and businessmen. We have a fortune to rival that of the legendary Templars,” Gomez stated proudly. “Like your family, we too, had to flee from ancestral lands and make a new start on foreign soil. The Church had decided that we had made a pact with Satan himself for power and wealth.”

“My demon prince,” Morticia teased, chuckling happily.

Gomez growled, leaning down to claim her lips in a steamy, possessive kiss. Then resting his head in the palm of his right hand, he asked, “Why hasn’t anyone come looking for us?” He had expected to be interrupted while he was slaking his carnal lust for his gothic angel – but no such interruption came. Finding his vest, he pulled out the pocket watch and saw that it was nearly midnight.

“More than likely, Kitty is at the door, and he won’t let anyone get close,” Morticia responded, propping herself up on her forearms. Her long hair fell back over shoulders, the light of the fire glinting off her impossible pale skin.

“Remind me to give that beast the biggest steak I can buy,” Gomez said with a wicked little wink. Lying on his back, he brought her down against him. He would be content to stay with her like this for the rest of his life.

Morticia rested her head on his chest, listening to him breathe, to the rackling of the fire, and to the steady patter of rain hitting the window. “What’s the Addams mansion like?” she asked, drawing little designs on his chest. Each one was a symbol she had been taught as a child – protection, strength, healing, and longevity. As she drew them, she willed them into being inside him.

A new warmth blossomed inside Gomez’s chest. “When you first drive up there is a massive wrought iron fence and…gate,” he said hesitating slightly.

“Gate?” Morticia pressed for more information as she rested her chin on the center of his chest.

“Yes, he tends to misbehave when we have visitors,” Gomez explained. “He’s a lot like the rug we’re lying on.” He gave the fur an affectionate pat and was rewarded with a little grumble. When they were married and living in his home, he hoped she would bring this with her. Every time he looked at it, he would remember this moment.

“I’m sure Gate and I will be fast friends,” Morticia stated without hesitation. They shared a happy smile.

“Once in front of the house, you’ll see a conservatory off to the left with a view of the graveyard. On top of the conservatory is a private porch with the same view that leads into the master suite that will be our room eventually…” Gomez realized he was getting ahead of himself. “The tall green doors are splashed with the remnants of boiling oil. The stain gets a little different every year. We make a game out of how many carolers we get hit from the room.” He laughed. Her eyes sparkled with amusement as she waited for him to continue. “Walking inside there’s a grand foyer with stairs directly ahead. Up them and through the center doors, we have a ballroom where we hold family gatherings for spectacular celebrations.” Picturing their future together, he could see them hosting parties in that room.

Morticia closed her eyes, pillowing her head on his chest again. She listened to him describe the house where she would eventually go to live. Through his words, it already felt like home. All too soon, he tapered off, letting silence fall in the room. Looking up at him, she asked, “Why’d you stop?”

“I could talk about my home all night long, but it would dull the splendor of you seeing it for the first time,” Gomez replied. He wanted to see the light in her eyes as he carried her through the doors for the first time. He wanted to see the moment she knew his home was hers.

“Then, our wedding can’t come soon enough,” Morticia responded. “Make love to me again, _mon sauvage_.”

Fire coursed through Gomez as he eagerly kissed her, putting her beneath him again. This time, she let him take charge.

*******

By morning the rain had turned to a drizzle as the inhabitants of the house convened downstairs for breakfast in the conservatory. It was agreed by all that until the road was passable, the Addams’s would remain guests at the Frump manor. Orion had gone to rouse Ophelia, who was still in the grips of her belladonna induced sleep. She would need to eat, and he would prefer she do it sooner rather than later. When he failed to wake her, he trudged downstairs seeing Kitty lying in the main room by the fireplace. A laugh reached his ears belonging to Morticia. She sounded happier than she had in years. The general mood around the breakfast table was that of conviviality. Entering the glass-built extension of the old manor house, Orion nodded to Gomez and said, “We missed you at dinner last night.”

“My apologies, but that great hairy beast on the stairs wouldn’t let me pass,” Gomez said, though no one at the table believed him. From the color in his cheeks, and in Morticia’s, everyone at the table could guess what they had been up to all night. Though, they were too good to actually comment on it. They were going to let the matter slide.

Morticia brought the white china cup with painted black roses on it to her lips to hide her smile. After schooling her features in something resembling morning tranquility, she set her cup down on the saucer and asked, “How is Ophelia this morning?”

Orion sat down next to Fester and poured himself a cup of wolfbane tea. “She’s still sleeping. How much belladonna did you give her?” he asked and then reached for a slice of toast.

“Enough to ensure she slept through the night and well into the afternoon,” Morticia answered. Yesterday, when they were halfway home, Ophelia had gotten quiet. From her experience, she knew this meant an even greater storm was on the way where her older sister was concerned. It never ended well for the family – especially Orion. He always took the brunt of Ophelia’s outbursts. Last time she nearly lost herself, she broke his jaw.

“Do you know what’s wrong with the poor dear?” Eudora asked. Last night she and Hester had talked into the early morning hours about the outcoming of consent to Morticia marrying Gomez. The young woman was just starting to become sure of herself and Eudora could see that if she stayed with Gomez, they would become better together.

“Rumor has it that this family is cursed,” Fester chimed in. Gomez glanced at him and they shared a look that was more hostile than brotherly rivalry. He was being the skeptical older brother. Despite the jealousy, he wanted to be sure Gomez was making the right choice.

“Oh, you heard about that,” Morticia said smoothly. “It’s an interesting bit of family legend,” she said enthusiastically. A strange feeling came over her – one of strength and power. No matter what was decided between the matriarchs, Morticia knew her place was cemented at Gomez’s side. She would be his wife no matter what. Still, but she imparted a particular bit of family lore, she slid her glance to the head to the table where her mother sat. She nodded, giving consent. “It dates back to Salem, towards the end of the witch trials. My father’s family had escaped the persecutions without so much as a tarnish on the Frump name. Of course, other surviving families envied them, and under the light of a full moon, thirteen survivors risked their freedom and their lives to call down a curse of madness to run rampant through the blood of any living Frump.”

“For a while it seemed as if the curse had taken root and done what it was supposed to,” Orion took up the telling. “At one point, the Frump line was nearly decimated, until two brothers decided to look outside the witch community for the continuation of blood. Ordinary humans seemed to do the trick… for a while, at least.” He looked back towards the stairs. She was the latest victim to a curse that had no end in sight.

“The power faded as our family focused on business ventures and building legacy that had nothing to do with magic,” Hester spoke softly. She recalled meeting Reginald in a café on Bourbon street when he had come to town for an opportunity. He was handsome with a regal bearing to the way he walked. Hester had been transfixed by him. Of course, she knew who he was from the scent of magic that clung to him, but he himself had no real power. She didn’t care about the curse. She wanted Reginald for who he was – not his magical lineage.

“Then you brought magic back to the family,” Eudora guessed.

“For a while we thought the curse might have run out of juice, until Orion started displaying skills with fire and Morticia with her plants. Ophelia can make a spark here and there, and sometimes plants respond to her – including daisies which she is obsessed with. I’m sorry to have misled you, Eudora,” Hester explained and apologized in the same breath.

“Think nothing of it,” Eudora said with a wave of her hand. “Madness is nothing new in the Addams Family. We’re filled with psychopaths and fiends, businessmen and murderers. Morticia would be a welcome addition to the family and I can see no reason not to consent to her marrying Gomez.”

Gomez reached under the table, taking Morticia’s hand. He brought it out, placing a kiss to her knuckles. This was the news he had wanted to hear all morning. This was his mother, after all. She may make him squirm from time to time, but she did take his wants into account. And he wanted Morticia more than anything else in the world. “You truly mean it, mother?” he asked

“Yes, I can already see there is no separating the two of you – except through death and that will come in time to all of us.” Eudora couldn’t refuse to give him the woman he wanted. It was easy to see that Morticia was already making him a better man.

*****

On the stairs, Ophelia listened to it all. It was no secret that the Frump family was a little insane. It was a shock to her to hear she was the one with the curse. All this time her parents, her brother and sister told her there was nothing wrong with her. They lied. Well, she would show them she wasn’t crazy. All she had to do was trigger her latent medium powers. She knew she had it in her. Gomez would be the life she would use to fully awaken her witch’s abilities.

*****

Afternoon came rolling around with another storm. Orion was back upstairs with Ophelia. Fester was milling about the third floor. Hester and Eudora were making the arrangements for the wedding – who to invite, what food to serve, and how to dress the bride and groom.

Gomez stood in the doorway of the conservatory studying his bride-to-be as she wielded a pair of pruning shears. She wore simple black leggings, a long black tunic, flats, and had her hair pinned up out of her way. Currently, she was snipping the heads off of a bush of red roses and collecting them in a glass bowl. “Why do you cut the buds off, Tish?” he asked, walking over to her, immediately slipping his left arm around her waist.

“Thorns are just so cheery, don’t you think?” Morticia asked in a sultry voice. Then she chuckled, leaning back against him, touching the side of her head to his cheek. “I cut the buds off to distill the scent into perfume and into lotion. Then I take the petals, grind them together to use the color for lipstick and nail polish.”

“That’s why you smell so intoxicating,” Gomez surmised moments before his lips nibbled behind her ear. Her scent of roses, magic, and death left his mind spinning, and his desire on a low simmer.

Morticia enjoyed his little teasing nips. “Darling, I have to finish this,” she said, reluctantly moving away from him. He let her go with a grumble of reluctance. She moved around the table, snipping a few more buds, when she looked up and saw him with a cigar in his mouth. He looked so handsome with it sticking out the left side of his mouth, the smoke wafting up from the lit tip while his hands were shoved in the pockets of his vest.

Gomez took a few puffs, then blew out four smoke rings. She had a curious look on her face. “What? Do you not like my cigars?” If she wanted him to stop smoking, he would right here and now. The torments of going cold turkey could be fun.

“I think they make you like a dashing rogue,” Morticia answered. She set her shears down and then picked up the glass bowl. He was to her side in a second, taking it from her. “Thank you, my dearest,” she said, caressing his face lightly.

Gomez smiled proudly. He set the dish down on the work bench where a chemistry set was erected. “You are a wonder to behold, _querida-mia_ ,” he said flirtatiously and placed a soft kiss to the side of her head.

“Will you tell me about Fester, about why he’s acting the way he’s acting?” Morticia asked. She turned to face Gomez, leaning her hip against the work bench. Marrying into another family was always stressful, and if she was going to be weathering the cold, unfriendly stares from her soon to be brother-in-law, then she would like to know ahead of time. She could find ways to thaw his chilly disposition.

Gomez put his cigar back in his mouth, his hands in his pants, pockets, and rocked back on his heels. “His attitude is my fault, I’m afraid,” he explained. “Last night before you showed up to the ball, I was shamelessly flirting with the Amour twins. Fester doesn’t realize I was trying to save him from making a mistake. Those twins are gold-diggers. They only want my brother for his money. Normally, that’s not a bad trait to have in the Addams Family, but he would fall in love with them while they wouldn’t return his affections.”

“Your brother loves too easily?” Morticia asked. Orion was like that too. Before Ophelia began to monopolize his attention, he had a girl he was deeply in love with. She was a fiery redheaded witch from a Scottish family that had business ties with their father. They were always together, always talking about their future, and how they would be when they were adults. Then Ophelia took her turn and he had to give up his life. Morticia hated all the sacrifices he was making for his twin – and for her. He was making it possible for her to get away from it all.

“At times, he’s a fool for love,” Gomez answered. Even though Fester was the older brother, the heir to the Addams fortune, he would do what he had to protect his brother’s beautiful black heart. If he had to withstand the hate Fester was throwing his way, then he would.

“You’re a good brother, Gomez,” Morticia said softly.

“Give him time, _cara mia_ , he’ll forget all about this,” Gomez advised. Even as he said that, though, he couldn’t shake the feeling Fester was planning something.

“Morticia?”

Turning to the entrance of the conservatory, Morticia saw Ophelia – her arms full of daisies, swaying back and forth to some tune only she could hear. “Sister, how did you sleep?” she asked, going to her. Gomez was close behind. His arm was around her waist, keeping her close.

“Better than I have in weeks,” Ophelia stated, picking daisy petals, dropping them to the ground. “I still can’t believe my dear, sweet Victor is dead,” she murmured, her bottom lip trembling.

Morticia looked at the semicircle of eight male ghosts standing behind Ophelia. Each one had a look of utter contempt on their faces… except Victor. He genuinely seemed to be sad he was gone from her life. “I’m sure he never wanted to leave you,” she said sadly. Gomez’s hand tightened on her hip protectively. He was silently telling her that he was there to protect her should she need it.

Ophelia glanced at her sister and then slid her gaze over to the man next to her – Gomez. “Who is your friend?” she asked almost absentmindedly, careful to make her sister believe she was still saddened over Victor. Fervently, she plucked more petals from the bouquet of daisies, scattering them about the floor.

“This is Gomez Addams, my soon to be husband,” Morticia answered, watching each white petal fall to the floor. A shiver ran up her spine as she tried not to turn and see which ghost was trying to hijack her. A cursory glance to the spirits, told her it was Antoine trying to gain access to her body. He wouldn’t have any luck, however. Soon he would stop trying, but until then, she would have to act like nothing was happening.

“Pleased to meet you,” Gomez said, offering his left hand to Ophelia. He kept his right firmly in place on Morticia’s hip. He got a bad feeling from her sister.

Ophelia gripped his hand, squeezing with all her might. Gomez didn’t so much as flinch. Letting go, she winked at Morticia and said, “I like him!” Then, being flighty, she swept out of the room.

Gomez removed his cigar, holding it between his index and middle finger of his left hand as he watched Morticia while she watched her sister leave the room. Her eyes were sweeping back and forth, seeing something that he hadn’t the power to perceive. He was about to ask, when her hands cupped the back of his neck, bringing his mouth against hers in a fierce passionate kiss. It was over in the next second, leaving him practically breathless. “Tish…”

“Don’t say anything, just follow me,” Morticia said, taking his right hand and pulling him towards the back of the manor. One door beyond the kitchen was a set of stairs that led them down to the basement that housed the playroom, and another set of carved stone steps hidden behind a large wall tapestry. Hidden under the manor was a network of caves leading for miles in different directions. One particular tunnel led towards a cave that she claimed as hers. Showing it to Gomez would allow them to speak freely without anyone to overhear them.

The darkness of the stone walls didn’t bother Gomez as he followed behind Morticia. He was careful with each step he took, feeling the dampness under his shoes. From the distance, he guessed they were halfway down when a torch lining the wall suddenly erupted to life. After blinking a few times to clear the spots from his vision, he asked quietly, “Why didn’t you do that before?”

“I don’t want anyone to come looking for us,” Morticia answered. “If they saw a flicker of flames under the tapestry, they might get curious and come to investigate.” Taking his hand again, she continued on until her feet finally touched the flat surface of the cave entrance. “For hundreds of years, witches would hide here from their enemies. In some of the caves their bones are buried in the walls.”

“Now that I’ve got to see,” Gomez responded eagerly.

A cold pulse of magic slammed into Morticia, knocking her back against Gomez. She breathed out hard, as she always did when she walked over the graves of her ancestors. The spirits that lived down in the dark weren’t entirely sociable, but they allowed her to pass because she was the only one who could see them, who dared to try to talk to them. “Stay close to me and don’t let go of my hand,” she warned.

Gomez nodded. He held her hand and stayed lock step with her, trying not to brush up against the walls. The narrow passage was getting cramped, and just when he thought they were going to reach a dead end, the corridor opened up into a large cavern. Symbols were carved on the walls; old tapestries of dragons and monsters added an ancient flair to the grungy walls. Torches blazed to life, breathing warmth into the cave where he saw a glowing ring carved into the floor. “What’s that?”

“It’s a boundary spell to keep spirits from entering,” Morticia answered. “This is the one place I can truly find a moments peace from them.” She walked around the room, making sure no mart of the spell had been damaged. A sigh of relief echoed around them. Looking around at the spell books she’d collected from various curio shops were stacked on folding tables. Some of them were open, others were marked with spells she had yet to try. Not even Orion knew she had this space.

Gomez poked around the collection of books – astral projection, soul possession, and necromancy. There were even books dealing with the dark arts. She had one propped open, comparing it to a book of wicca – the light side of the craft. He spied scattered bits of paper with scribbles on it, symbols mixed together to create some hybrid that he couldn’t understand. “You have varied tastes, Tish,” he commented, turning around to look at her.

“I’ve been trying to understand my power on my own, and it hasn’t been easy,” Morticia replied, slipping up to sit on the vacant table she had been leaning on. “Psychic mediums are vulnerable to soul hijackings.” She pulled the collar of her shirt down, exposing an opalescent green symbol under her left clavicle. “This keeps me from being possessed,” she explained.

“I would have noticed that last night… and early this morning,” Gomez teased wickedly, wagging his eyebrows. He crossed the expanse of the cave, standing between her parted knees. Without hesitation, he leaned down and kissed the glowing symbol.

“I came down here to recharge it. While we were talking to Ophelia, one of her former suitors tried to hijack me,” Morticia confided. She got a strange feeling from her older sister the entire time they were talking in the conservatory. Normally after one of her long sleeps, Ophelia would exude a calm energy. The feeling Morticia got from her was anything but. It was deceptive. She couldn’t understand why.

“One of them? How many has she had?” Gomez asked. His amorous advances put on hold for the moment.

“That are dead? Eight,” Morticia responded, biting her bottom lip.

Gomez studied her for a moment and then asked, “What is it you’re not saying, Tish?” There was some thought she was trying to keep concealed but he could see the suspicion in her gaze.

Morticia opened her mouth to answer him, but then closed it. She was almost afraid to voice the terrible thought that had been rattling around her mind for months. “I think…” she started to say and then stopped as if the words were stuck in her throat. “I fear that Ophelia intentionally drove those men to kill themselves,” she said finally, her voice shaking with the effort. “Each time another one dies; Orion asks me if the soul is lingering and I lie to him.” She looked away from Gomez, ashamed over her dishonesty. Orion had done nothing but protect her and she had lied to him over and over again.

“Why did you lie?” Gomez inquired. He wasn’t a stranger to dishonesty himself. He’s lied, cheated, and made empty promises more than a few times. Those were all with people he didn’t like, however. With Morticia he would lay himself bare and be completely honest with her.

“That’s just it, I don’t know,” Morticia answered honestly. “Something in me kept silent, warning me that knowledge was power and that I shouldn’t be too eager to give away all my secrets.” Orion, as much as he tried to protect her, was still Ophelia’s twin. She didn’t want to put his brotherly affections to the test by making him choose which one of them he would side with.

“And yet, you’re trusting me,” Gomez pointed out with a little wink.

“From the moment we met, I couldn’t imagine my future without you in it, _mon amour_ ,” Morticia stated, draping her arms over his shoulders.

“Nor I, _cara mia_ ,” Gomez responded moments before he captured her lips in a fiery kiss.

******

In the hour before dinner, Morticia was curled up in the corner of the love seat in the living room, knitting. She was making a new cardigan in her favorite color – black. Gomez had gone in search of his mother, to see how the wedding plans were progressing. Mama and Orion were in the kitchen, cooking together. Ophelia was flitting about the garden, walking around in the wet grass now that the rain had stopped. At one point, Morticia had checked on her. She was wearing a crown of daisies, dancing to some mysterious tune. Morticia sighed, shaking her head, and then returned to her knitting.

******

Gomez sat next to his mother while she was on the phone. The stern voice on the other end of the line belonged to that of his father, Silas Addams. His father wasn’t pleased with what his wife had done, changing the terms of the marriage agreement. Gomez, impatiently, sat by his mother, listening to her handled her husband. She didn’t raise her voice, didn’t belittle him. She simply waited for him to vent his disappointment and then she started talking.

“Silas, you may think you have the right to malign the character of my oldest friend, but me assure you – you do not. I have seen Ophelia for myself and have concluded she is not the right fit for our family. Morticia, however, is everything we are looking for in a wife for Gomez. She tempers his fiery spirit,” Eudora said looking right at her son when she spoke the last sentence.

Gomez nodded in agreement. Ever since seeing her on the stairs yesterday, Morticia had held his attention every minute of every hour. She was constantly on his mind as he imagined what their life together looked like. He knew they would be blissfully in love for the rest of their lives.

“As it is,” Eudora continued, stemming the tide of another rant her husband was gearing up for, “you are out of the country, securing new business ventures for our family, and final say rests with me. Gomez will marry Morticia and that is final.” With that said, she ended the call. There were times when she had to be the authoritative one. It was the only way her husband ever seemed to learn not to discount her.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you speak to father that way,” Gomez uttered softly. There were times his parents had verbally punished him and Fester for various reasons – all innocent stunts. Well, almost innocent. Some of their antics had landed them at Camp Custer for pre-teen offenders.

“We always made sure our arguments never happened in front of you and your brother,” Eudora replied. “That’s a matrimonial lesson for you, my son. Never get angry at your wife in front of your children.”

Gomez nodded. He couldn’t picture himself and Morticia having arguments, but nevertheless he would take his mother’s advice to heart. “Do you think father will stop my marriage?” he asked in a concerned hushed whisper.

“Not if I anything to say about it,” Eudora promised, patting his hand lightly. “Now, go to your bride-to-be, I have more calls to make.” She shooed her son away and he happily left her alone. Her contented smile faded, however, when she felt the envelope crinkle in her pocket. Sometime after breakfast, he’d written a letter to his brother, leaving it where Gomez would notice it, and walked out of Frump manor. Eudora was relieved she found the letter first. She read it and sealed it up again. In it, Fester explained he had to leave rather than stand around and watch Gomez be happy. He wasn’t coming back. Eudora knew this would crush her son. Gomez adored Fester. She was keeping this from him until he was married and Morticia would be there to comfort him.

*******

Morticia knew the moment Gomez walked into the living room. A warm tingle ran through her entire body as she searched the room for him. He was standing by the mantle, a cigar in his mouth, and a devil may care smile on his face. “You’re looking awfully pleased with yourself, _mon cher_.” The fire that lit his eyes, fanned the flames of her desire for him. He crossed the room in a hurried stride. Setting her knitting aside in the basket by the little couch, she offered him her left arm. His lips kissed the back of her hand, moving up her arm, to her shoulder, to the crook of her neck.

Gomez kissed the underside of her chin, down her throat, and to her chest, placing heated kisses to her body over the fabric of her shirt. He continued down until he was lavishing attention on her abdomen. In between those kisses he muttered little Spanish phrases. Her hand rested against the back of his head, lightly stroking his hair. Pausing for a moment, he rolled his gaze up and said, “I can’t wait to start a family with you, Tish.”

“Neither can I, Gomez,” Morticia responded and stroked his face. He placed one more long, lingering kiss to her belly, and then sat up, taking a seat next to her. Curling into his side, she resumed her knitting, while he smoked and played with her hair. This was only a small taste of what life would be like together.

TBC....


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the final chapter and I hope you all have enjoyed my foray into the Addams Family realm!

Dinner had been a jovial affair with conversations aplenty. Once the table was cleared, Lurch repaired to the harpsichord. His playing filled the living room while Orion and Ophelia read from Hamlet and Hester played cards with Eudora. Morticia held a dull edged rapier, holding a fencer’s posture as she faced off with Gomez. He dueled with a practiced fluid grace as he danced around her. She feinted to her right, drawing him in, and stripped him of his sword. Taking it in hand, she crossed both blades against his neck and asked, “Do you yield, sir?”

Gomez growled delightedly. “To you, _querida_ , forever,” he said with the biggest grin on his face. The blades moved from his throat and she allowed him to rise. “You dance, fence, knit, garden…” he said in amazement. “What else can you do?” They could live a hundred years and he would continually be surprised by her.

“Anything you like,” Morticia replied in a soft flirtatious voice. With him she was finding a version of herself that she felt lurking beneath the surface. Something about him had breathed life into that persona until it was overriding the scared young woman she currently was. She was still fearful of Ophelia finding out her secret, but with Gomez by her side, she could weather the storm of that fear and come out stronger than before.

Gomez laughed loudly. “All in good time, Tish,” he promised with a wink. The melody changed to a slow waltz reminiscent of the tune that played at the ball. He held out his hand to her, waiting for her to accept his invitation to dance. As she had on that fateful night, her hand slid into his allowing him to pull her close.

Morticia rested her left hand on his shoulder as his left arm slipped around her waist. Without words being needed, he started to guide her in a slow waltz. Quickly, everything around them faded away until she was completely absorbed in Gomez. Her eyes were locked with his that she hardly remembered they were in the living room of her family home. She trusted him completely as he guided her about the room, and then dipped her. Morticia laughed happily.

Gomez straightened, pulling Morticia flush against him. He had the temptation to kiss her, but his mother and hers were looking at them. It would be best to wait until she carried his name before showing such wanton affections. He was a proper gentleman after all – at least in public. Out of the corner of his eye, however, he noticed Ophelia studying him with a cold, calculated gaze. Gomez wasn’t a man prone to being unnerved by anything. He was a connoisseur of the weird and the bizarre. This gaze was enough to send a shiver up his spine, his instincts warning him to be on his guard.

******

The moon was high in the cloudless black sky. Morticia had the shutters in her room open, allowing the silver light to pour in as she and Gomez were in bed. She was stretched out along his back, her arms folded resting under her head. Her black silk sheet was draped over her waist. He was content beneath her, lying on his stomach with the pillow bunched under his chest and chin, his arms wrapped around it. Even though they had indulged in each other, he was quiet. “What’s troubling you?” she asked softly, her lips against the edge of his ear. Kissing the outer most edge, she waited until he answered.

“I believe your sister is planning to kill me,” Gomez answered, his voice as quiet as hers. He knew the look in a person’s eye when they were intent upon murder. He’d seen it in his eyes a time or two. When they had been in her hidden sanctuary, he had vowed to be honest with her, and so he would keep to that. “After we finished our little waltz, I noticed her watching us with coldness in her eyes. Perhaps that drugged sleep you put her in did more for her mental state than you intended.” He wasn’t blaming her for that. She was thinking of easing the suffering her sister was in.

“No good deed goes unpunished, or so the saying goes,” Morticia replied sadly. She sat up, sitting astride his flank, starring out the window. Her right hand rested over the sigil over her heart. There had to be a way for her to turn Ophelia’s focus from Gomez to her. She wouldn’t allow him to be harmed for a power her sister craved.

Turning over, Gomez pushed himself up, bracing his palms on the mattress. “Please, don’t think I’m blaming you,” he said gently. He had to make sure she knew that was not his intention.

Morticia cupped his face in her hands, saying reassuringly, “I don’t. My secret has been hidden long enough.” Glancing towards the ghost of Celestina, her aunt wore a troubled expression. “I was foolish to believe I could go on forever without her knowing.”

_Should you need help, you know where to look._

Morticia pondered Celestina’s words. She didn’t mean the collection of books hidden in her chamber. The library. Those books there, she never dared to touch lest she give the game away. Whenever Ophelia wasn’t off with her daisies, she was in the library reading about the psychic mediums of the Frump family. It never made sense before why she would spend hours of her life reading the same family legends. Now, it dawned on her. Ophelia was looking for a way to activate the gift. When Morticia had seen her first ghost, it had been after a splitting headache that had lasted nearly a week. If there was something the library that could help…. She looked at Celestina again, and her ghostly aunt nodded.

Gomez watched a wave of emotions wash over Tish’s face in the span of a few seconds. She went from despair, to hope, to confusion, back to hope, and finally, he saw the look of determination in her eyes. “What is it?” he asked, sitting up more, wrapping his arms around her waist.

Morticia draped her arms over his shoulders, threading her fingers through his hair. She rested her forehead to his and whispered, “I may need your help to contain her.”

“Whatever I can do,” Gomez swore. He didn’t ask her about her choice of words. Tish could have said she was going to kill Ophelia – or at the very least she could have said stop. Instead she chose the word contain. For a witch – those he knew of – words were always chosen carefully and with purpose.

Morticia didn’t want to think anymore tonight. She only wanted to succumb to the pleasure between her and her future husband. Leaning down, he took his lips, kissing him passionately. He didn’t need any further prompting. Taking her to the bed beneath him, he slid inside her in one thrust. She moaned into his kiss, falling into the warmth of the ecstasy spreading through her body.

*******

Ophelia stole out of her room, creeping down the stairs, and out the door in the conservatory. Out in the night with the full moon as her only light, she made her way to the woods that bordered their land. Deep in the forest there was a stand of circular stone with an altar in the center. It had been used in rituals for hundreds of years – mainly human sacrifices. She hadn’t been out to this site in years. The last night had been on a night like this and she had been scared out of her wits. Tonight, she swallowed that childish fear and moved into the stone circle. The altar was there with large metal rings anchored in all four of the stone sides. Leather straps were tied to the iron rings.

Ophelia tugged on the leather strap closest to her, leaning back, using all of her strength to try and break it. The strap groaned, but it didn’t snap. She was confident it would hold a man of Gomez’s strength for long enough. Now, all she had to do was find some way to get him out here. With her mind crystal clear, everything was falling into place. Soon, she would have the power she’d longed for – even if it was at the expense of Morticia’s happiness. Her sister would understand.

******

Morticia had stollen away to the library as soon as she could while everyone else busied themselves with minor amusements. Gomez, ready to distract Ophelia, situated himself in the living room, keeping watch on the stairs while acting as if he were lost in the gripping tale of _Macbeth_. He longed to go to her, to see what progress she made, but he had promised to distract her sister and let her work. Page after page went by and he was nearly finished when he heard the stairs creaking. He thought he would find Ophelia, instead, it was Kitty. The great beast lazily loped down the stairs and came right over to him. Gomez stayed where he was and remained as still as possible while the lion decided whether what to do. The large feline drew closer, sniffing the tip of his shoe.

Hot puffs of air blew against the cuff of Gomez’s pants leg as the large black nose moved up towards his knee. He watched in complete fascination as the beast turned his head, rubbing his cheek against his leg. The, Kitty rested his chin in Gomez’s lap, while amber eyes silently told him it was okay to pet him. Gomez slowly and gently rested his right hand on Kitty’s forehead, his fingers curling, scratching. Testing the limits of this newfound friendship, he leaned down and rubbed his cheek against Kitty’s. Then, pulling back, he nodded in understanding. Kitty had just accepted him. Sitting back, Gomez flipped to the beginning of the book and started reading again.

*******

Morticia didn’t realize the daunting task she had in front of her. Her father read anything and everything that interested him. She had found self-help books, cookbooks, practical voodoo, a study of comparative religion, and even a leather-bound copy of the karma sutra. Morticia made a mental note of the book’s location, and then continued on her search. Despite having no supernatural power to speak of, her father had an impressive collection of spell books and even one of psychic mediums. Her hand shot out in a flash to grab the spine, but as she was inches away from taking it from the shelf, old fears stopped her.

“Don’t be so ridiculous,” Morticia scolded herself. If she was ever going to become her true self, she had to break free of the restrictive shackles that fear had chained her in. Taking a deep breath, she snatched the book off the shelf and waited for something to happen. After several tense seconds of waiting, nothing happened, and she sighed in relief. Morticia opened the book. As she was leafing through the pages, a single sheet of paper fell out, fluttering to the floor. Setting the seemingly useless book aside, she crouched down picking up the heavy piece of paper. It was an illuminated page torn from an old manuscript. The paper was vellum from a sixteenth century.

Morticia frowned slightly. She could barely read the words written upon it. Then, at the bottom of the page, something caught her eye. A bloody thumb print. It wasn’t fresh, however. Lining the walls of the library were many different types of swords that Reginald Frump had collected. Sitting on the mantle was a set of two swords he’d received as a gift from Japanese businessmen. Morticia went to the display and picked up the shorter of the two – the wakizashi. She removed it from the wooden stand, pushing the tsuba away from the koiguchi to expose the blade edge. Without thinking twice about it, she pressed the pad of her thumb to the blade, felt the pressure of her skin being slide apart, and then pulled her finger away. It all took two seconds. Blood welled up in the wound.

Morticia kept her hand around the scabbard of the wakizashi as she walked back to the desk. She pressed her thumb to the parchment and in the next second swirling opalescent green symbols appeared. Eight spectral figures were linked together, being made into chains to bind a witch from doing harm. Another symbol revealed itself that had her hand flying to her chest. It was the one she had on her. She had used it to keep from being possessed by the ghosts she encountered. To bind her sister from doing any harm to herself or another person, it would seem she would have to break the sigil and let the ghosts of the dead suitors possess her.

*****

Gomez had abandoned his seat and the book he’d been reading, in favor of taking in the portraits hanging on the wall. Every oil canvas subject was unique and striking with a freakish dignity that he couldn’t help but to associate with his own family. The gentleman he was currently studying was named Rupert Graves LaRue. He had deep black circles around his eyes, nose, and mouth. It made him seem like he was a living skeleton. It was then he spied the Jolly Roger flag down in the left-hand corner. “A pirate…” Gomez said with a rueful smile. He was loving Morticia’s family more and more.

Ophelia immerged from the back hall where she had been in the kitchen cooking up a little potion. If Gomez resisted too much, she could use it to subdue him. She had to hold on to her clarity long enough to be persuasive and get him to follow her. Currently, he was standing at the fireplace looking at the portrait of one of mama’s relatives. “Gomez, there you are,” she said cheerfully.

Gomez turned, plastering a warms mile on his face. “Hello, Ophelia. How are you feeling this afternoon?” he asked convivially. He took one of his cigars out, putting it in his mouth, puffing away idly. She seemed calmer than she had two days ago. Calm for her was dangerous – even he could see that. Still, he had promised Tish he would distract her. Gomez was capable of taking care of himself until she had what she needed.

“I’m still miserable that Victor is gone. He was delightful and funny,” Ophelia replied wistfully, plucking the petals of some imaginary daisies. “To break out of these doldrums, I have decided to help with the wedding preparations. There is this magnificently gloomy place I know of. It was there Morticia used to play as a child – imagining herself a hobgoblin, sneaking off to cause mischief.”

Gomez laughing lightly, trying to imagine his statuesque gothic angel running around the woods. His smile almost faltered when he recalled her time in the forest, lost and alone save for her lion protector. What he wouldn’t have given to be there, to save her from that fate. “I would like to see this place, if you wouldn’t mind showing me,” he stated, offering his arm to her. It wouldn’t do to give the game away too soon.

Ophelia giggled, linking her arm with his. “You are such the gentleman, Gomez. Too bad Morticia met you first,” she joked. It was almost a shame she was leading him to his death. He seemed like a very nice and loving man who was already devoted to her little sister. Oh well, there was time for Morticia to find another. Lionel Strathmore had always been interested in her and he appeared nice enough.

Gomez walked with Ophelia through the conservatory, out the door, and around to the back of the house. Along the way they passed a graveyard with a swamp just beyond its border. Then, some distance from the house, the tree line came into view. This was always the set up for calamity – a young well-meaning girl travels into the dark woods and gets eaten by a suave monster. Gomez had always cast himself in the role of the debonair beast. This time, however, he was playing the part of the damsel. “This is an amazing estate your family has,” he said conversationally.

“It’s been in father’s family for generations,” Ophelia stated proudly. She led him deeper into the old woods. “The three of us used to play in the haunted forest all the time. Morticia with her pale skin always looked like a banshee come see her revenge on guilty men,” she chuckled.

Gomez puffed away on his cigar, nodding, and making the appropriate noises. The further away they got from the house, he felt his impending doom getting closer. It wasn’t an entirely uncomfortable feeling, if he was honest with himself. He liked a little danger. It was easier to walk into it when he trusted Morticia to be there to keep him from actually dying.

Ophelia saw the stone altar come into view. So as not to alarm Gomez, she said, “This was always Morticia’s favorite place to come to be alone as a child. Orion and I would find her lying on the center stone, a book open, and her eyes focused on some distance mirage that only she could see.” It always seemed odd to her that Morticia liked to be alone in the dark with her books and imagination.

Gomez stepped away from Ophelia, going to the altar. The reddish/brown stains on the stone were very telling and under different circumstances, they might have intrigued him. Tonight was not the night to be distracted by the intrigue that was human sacrifice. He had just sprung the trap his instincts were telling him Ophelia had set. With his back to her, he didn’t see what struck the back of his head, rendering him unconscious.

******

Morticia had finished mixing up a paste that she was to put on her eyelids, down the side of her neck, and over her heart. It would help the ghosts take possession of her body. She dipped her finger into the white shining black concoction and had brought her fingers to her closed eyes when the drawing room door opened. She didn’t stop. The rapidly cooling paste touched her skin, her fingers moving across the lids, and then down the side of her cheeks, stopping just above her jaw. Morticia didn’t stop there. Painting her fingers again, she drew four circles on either side of her neck for the eight souls she would use to imprison her sister.

Orion found the drawing room doors closed, which was odd in and of itself. Mama never kept the doors closed, not even when she was cooking up a potion to give to friend. It was a surprise to find Morticia in there. “What are you doing? I thought you’d be off with Gomez, making moon eyes at each other,” he teased. Then, he saw the page on the table, and the ingredients she’d cobbled together.

Morticia didn’t have time to feel ashamed over being found. Instead, she picked the page up, thrusting it into her brother’s hands. “This is how I’m going to contain Ophelia,” she said, moving around the table to leave the room. She had heard the conservatory door open and close no more than fifteen minutes ago. That meant Gomez didn’t have much time. From that door there was only one place she could be going.

Confusion rode Orion as he followed his sister out of the house. He dumbly looked at the piece of paper, trying to comprehend what it was he was looking at. “What are you talking about? Contain her how? Morticia….”

“I can’t wait, Orion,” Morticia said sharply. “Gomez is out there with her, distracting her for me,” she added, going through the side door. She didn’t wait to hear what Orion had to say. Her only thought was to get to Gomez in time.

*******

Gomez felt the blackness lifting from his mind. His eyes opened and he found himself lying on the altar, his hands and legs bound with leather straps. Under different circumstances this would’ve been fun for him. The throbbing in his head and the ache in his shoulders was not pleasurable in the least. Turning his head to the side, he felt a sharp stab of pain telling him whatever had hit him, split his scalp open. A little distance away, stood Ophelia muttering to herself. “If you wanted to tie me up, all you had to do was ask,” he said, calling attention to himself.

Ophelia looked at him, the light of the dying day casting him in haunted shadows. She had a big, bloody rock in her hand. It tumbled from her hand as she said, “I thought about using this sleep potion to subdue you, but the rock worked faster. You should be honored. You’re going to activate my latent powers that will allow me to see and talk to spirits that are lingering in the world.”

“What if you kill me and you don’t get this power? You would’ve hurt Morticia for no reason,” Gomez said, trying to reason with her and buy himself a few more minutes. He knew Tish was on her way, he just had to hold out a little longer.

“She’ll understand why I had to do this,” Ophelia said dismissively, waving her hand.

“You think so? Do you want to risk it?” Gomez asked. “If you do this, she’ll never forgive you.”

“Yes, she will!” Ophelia screamed. Taking up the old stone dagger from the altar, she pressed the blade tightly against his throat.

Gomez tensed, groaning as the knife bit into his skin. “You take away her chance at eternal love…I promise you, she won’t.”

Morticia had run through the woods hundreds of times as a child. Tonight, the sense of urgency rode her, spurring her to run faster than ever. She made it to the stone circle and her heart stopped. Ophelia had a knife at Gomez’s throat. “ _Mon cher_!” she shouted.

“ _Cara mia_!” Gomez turned his head, unconcerned with the thin cut from the blade. He had to have his eyes on Tish.

Morticia reluctantly focused on Ophelia, her hands raised in front of her in a non-threatening gesture. “Don’t do this, Ophelia,” she begged. “I love him, don’t make me live without him.” There had to be a chance she could talk her sister out of this, if only for Orion’s sake. Part of her didn’t want to do what she was prepared to do.

“I have to. If I don’t then I will never be able to see Victor again. I need to be a medium,” Ophelia babbled, drawing the knife away a fraction of an inch.

Morticia looked around at the eight men standing with her. “If you kill Gomez, you’ll never get the power to talk to ghosts.” She lifted the wakizashi and touched the blade to her sigil, breaking the protective spell and bringing a thin line of crimson to the surface. Dropping the weapon to the grass, she lowered her hands, her palms facing outward. The tips of her fingers started to glow green.

Gomez saw something he’d never thought he would see in his life – true power. The ghostly green he’d seen from the protective emblem on her chest was now all around her. He saw the dots on the side of her neck were the brightest green.

Out of shock, Ophelia backed away, the knife leaving Gomez’s throat, falling to the ground. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Morticia had had the supernatural ability that Ophelia had coveted for years. “How did you get this power?” she asked harshly, her voice rising in volume.

Morticia ignored Ophelia. Her attention was on the eight ghost that were her sister’s constant companions. “I’m offering you a chance to keep her from doing this to anyone else,” she said to them. The only one who looked sad was Victor. The ghostly form looked at Ophelia and then back to Morticia. He was the first to step forward, to offer his hand. Straddling the line between life and death, Morticia had the ability physically touch spirits. Her fingers touched to the tips of his, and power flared to life through her. For a single second, Victor was visible to others before is spectral energy was absorbed by Morticia.

Ophelia watched as horrific reality crashed down on her. Each man she had been associated with, each one that had died, was now possessing Morticia. Betrayal raged through her. Taring her gaze away, she frantically searched the dark ground for the knife. Morticia had taken the power she’d sought for most of her life. As recompense for this betrayal, Ophelia would take the life of the man Morticia had barely begun to love.

While Ophelia watched Morticia, Gomez started working on the leather bonds around his wrists. The knots had been secure, but he was adept at freeing himself from all kind of restrictive holds. If he could get one hand free, then he’d have a chance to live and start his life with Morticia. He just had to survive the night.

The last of the eight suitors stood before Morticia and he was angry. _“Why do you offer us this chance now?”_ he asked, crossing his ghostly arms over his chest.

“I’m offering you the chance to be her jailer,” Morticia replied, fighting to keep her thoughts straight. The voices of the squabbling men were starting to distract her. She couldn’t afford to be distracted, not when she was so close to containing her sister and saving Gomez.

_“Why now?!”_ Antione Marconi demanded to know.

“Because I didn’t do it then,” Morticia replied softly, the guilt evident in her voice. She and Orion knew what she was doing, the men she was obsessing over, the men she had killed with her oppressive attention. They should have stopped her long before now. She was only acting now because she had Gomez and she didn’t want to lose him too. Antione bowed his head, turning into a glowing green orb and merged with her.

Gomez had gotten his left wrist free when he saw the flash of the blade coming down, intent on being buried in his chest. He moved out of the way, rolling to his right. Before Ophelia could recover, he rolled back, trapping the knife under him. “Tish!” he called out.

Nine voices spoke as one. “ **Stop**!”

Ophelia froze. The commanding tone practically stopped her heart as she looked at her sister. Morticia’s eyes – which were normally brown – were now white and glowing. “Morticia?” she asked, her voice quivering with fear.

“Your obsession with this power drove seven men to kill themselves. The eighth – a man you claim to miss – you killed him yourself,” Morticia said with an eerie echo to her voice. When Victor merged with her, she saw what happened the day of his death. Ophelia had gotten Victor’s gun, shot him in the back of his head, and staged the death to make it look like someone else did it. The gun was hidden in the chimney, in a little shelf, wrapped in a towel. She saw how all of them had died.

Ophelia felt her blood run cold.

Morticia moved around the altar, her eyes on her sibling. “It wasn’t enough to obsess over these men, over this power…you dragged Orion and I down with you – down this rabbit hole of madness. And all you wanted was this…” Her hands started to glow that ghostly green. “Now, these men will be your prison and your wardens.” Before Ophelia could run, Morticia grabbed her. She held Ophelia’s head between her hands, forcing the spirits of all eight men into her, using them as links in a mental chain that would keep her forever contained within her own mind. As she poured more power into making the links solid and unbreakable, she and Ophelia screamed in unison.

Gomez freed himself, using the stone knife that had nearly been imbedded in his chest. He had just cut his feet free when Morticia and Ophelia collapsed, and the ghostly white light faded. Scrambling off the stone altar, he dropped to the ground, crawling over to where Morticia lay on the ground. He pulled her into his arm, his left hand brushing her hair back from her face. “Tish!” he called to her, wanting her to open her eyes. “Come back to me.” He lifted her, holding her against his chest.

Distantly, Morticia heard her name being called. The blackness left behind was all consuming and if she let it, it would get it’s hooks in her, keeping her catatonic. Gomez was calling to her, begging her to come back. For him, she fought through the darkness. It took all she had left to open her eyes, to try and focus on his loving face. “Gomez…”

“ _Querida_ , you had me so worried,” Gomez replied with a relieved sigh as he continued to hold her. Gently, he started to rock back and forth where she slowly brought her arms up and over his shoulders.

“Morticia! Gomez!”

“Over here!” Gomez shouted. His gothic angel was as weak as a kitten. It made it easy for him to maneuver her to where he could slip his let arm under her knees and stretch his right arm across her back. He had just gotten to his feet when Orion and Mrs. Frump came into view. Morticia had passed out again.

Orion went immediately to his twin, seeing her eyes were open and they were milky white. Her mouth was open slightly with a dazed expression on her face. “Mama…” he said weakly, not sure what there was to actually say. Staying behind at the house, he knew he made his choice to side with his little sister.

“Pick her up and we’ll all go back to the house,” Hester ordered her son and her soon to be son-in-law.

*******

Back at the house, Hester sent Gomez up stairs with Morticia. She, Orion, a catatonic Ophelia, and Eudora were going to remain on the first floor. The moment the door closed, she spoke, “Orion, put Ophelia on the couch and go up to her room and pack her bags. We’re going to take her to my cousin Lavinia.” After Morticia and Ophelia had disappeared, Hester went into the stillroom where she concocted her potions and tonics. It was there she found a single page from an old spell book that told her all she needed to know. Morticia was the medium that Ophelia had longed to be. The page instructed a medium how to use spirits to construct a prison of the mind, to keep someone subdued. 

Hester had a moment to feel truly hurt that none of her children trusted her. None of them felt they could confide in her what was really going on until it was to late. “Eudora, I hope you don’t think too poorly of my family after this episode,” she said sadly to her oldest friend.

“Of course not,” Eudora replied. “I’m no stranger to my sons causing drama. Fester, you might’ve noticed, is no longer here. He walked out into the raging storm with the intent of getting on a ship and sailing to the Bermuda Triangle just to get away from Gomez, and the happiness his brother was finding with Morticia. When my two boys aren’t thick as thieves, they’re like two hyenas at each other’s throats.” She took a moment’s pause, before continuing, “This will crush Gomez. He loves his brother – even though they fight at times.”

“I’ll have to have Lurch drive us out of town to where my cousin lives. Orion will feel guilty about what nearly happened, and he’ll dedicate his life to taking care of Ophelia until the day one of them dies,” Hester lamented.

“I’ll go with you and help get them settled. Gomez can take care of Morticia for a night and when we return, my son and I will return to the Addams mansion to plan for the wedding,” Eudora stated firmly.

Hester gave her a grateful look. “You don’t have to do that,” she said, letting her friend off the hook.

“Nonsense,” Eudora waved off her friends’ words. “We’ll be family soon and family helps one another no matter what.”

Hester felt as if she were going to cry over Eudora’s generous offer to help her relocate her oldest children.

*******

It was nearing the midnight hour. Gomez had spent hours sitting by Morticia waiting for her to stir. He had brought her straight up to her room, tucking her in, so that she would be comfortable upon waking. As of yet, she hadn’t opened her eyes. He held her hand, his thumb stroking back and forth across her knuckles slowly. Sliding to the edge of his seat, he brought her hand up to his lips, placing light kisses to her skin. “I just found you, Tish, don’t make me live without you,” he begged.

Gomez was losing hope Morticia would wake when he felt her fingers twitch. “ _Cara mia_?” he said softly, looking at her beautifully pale face. Even though her skin was smudged with the remnants of the concoction she had used, she was still gorgeous. “Please wake up…”

Morticia felt her eyes fluttering open. Her body felt as if she’d been aged one hundred years. When she searched the vicinity, she found Gomez there, looking at her with utter love and devotion. For a moment Gomez was all that mattered to her. She smiled slowly, seeing he was alive, and then the weight of what she’d done came crashing down on her. The smile gave way to tears and guilt. “Gomez, what have I done…?” She rolled over, curling up, giving herself the moment to feel all the traitorous emotions that came with betraying her sister.

Gomez was in bed with her in a second. He gathered her close to his body, wrapping her in his arms, kissing he top of her head as lovingly as he could. “You did the only thing you could do,” he replied softly. She clutched at the front of his shirt, burying her face in his chest. He could feel her tears. Gomez held her, running his hand up and down her back, letting her feel he was there with her, that he would always be there.

Morticia felt as if she’d been crying for a hundred years. Finally, mercifully, they stopped. She was left, sniffling and trying to catch her breath. Through it all, Gomez was there comforting her with his presence. He brought his hand up to her face, using his thumb to wipe away the remnants of her tears. “I’m sorry…” she said feebly.

“Oh, _querida_ , you have nothing to apologize for,” Gomez replied with a slight shake of his head. “You did what you had to do,” he repeated.

This time, it was Morticia who shook her head. “No, I should have stopped her sooner. Orion and I knew what Ophelia was doing, what we were allowing her to do. We covered it up and got rid of the evidence. I was too afraid to do anything…”

“What changed?” Gomez asked.

“You did. Meeting you on that fateful night… I saw my future and I knew I had to fight for it.” Morticia didn’t realize the devastation she was leaving in her wake as she moved towards Gomez. Her sister was locking in a prison of her own making and Orion – she assumed – would stay by her side out of his own guilt, thus sealing his own hellish fate. She was free, but it was at the expense of her sister and her brother.

Gomez pulled her close, pressing his lips to her forehead. She would feel this wound for a long time to come. The only thing he could do was to be there for her, to give her his love and his strength when she needed it. Soon they would be married, and they could begin to build hat future they saw together. This night would be but a distant memory in time.

**THE END**


End file.
